


Lust at the Country Ball

by LadyQuinnzell



Category: Original Work
Genre: Ballroom, F/M, Lust at First Sight, Nobility, Public Masturbation, Public Sex, Seduction, Sex, Teasing, Vouyerism, voyerism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:21:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22811554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyQuinnzell/pseuds/LadyQuinnzell
Summary: You never know who you might meet at the Country Ball...(I have a type and a fantasy, did you know)
Kudos: 19





	Lust at the Country Ball

It’s the county ball, a grand and exciting affair. We have both attended for our own reasons. Maybe out of obligation, maybe out of interest, but it doesn’t matter. We’re both there in the crowded hall, and our eyes meet from across the room. I don’t look away, instead holding your gaze longer than is proper. It becomes a contest to see who will look away first.

But any chance for a winner is lost when a pair of overenthusiastic dancers move between us, breaking our gaze. For a moment, you are gone, hidden by the crowd. When next I spot you, you are idly watching the dancers, but your eyes keep flicking back to me, eyeing me like I'm a toy you'd like to play with. 

Now that’s a thought I’d like to entertain. 

I start to wind through the crowd, holding a chalice of dark wine in my hand, careful not to spill a drop. You don’t seem to notice my approach, standing proud and tall as the world moves around you. perhaps you’re deliberately ignoring me, testing my confidence. Making me approach you instead of the other way around. I don’t mind, if it means I can admire you from the side. Your profile would make Adonnis weep. 

Finally I step up next to you, and you graciously deign to acknowledge me. You turn your head just enough to look at me, a single eyebrow raised in question. I read it for what it is-- an invitation. How can I not accept?

“Well my lord,” I say in a voice brimming with confidence. “You've called to me from across the hall, and here I am.” Without breaking eye contact, I incline my head ever so slightly. “What can I do for you?" 

Your mouth quirks up, and you look me up and down, taking in my flushed cheeks and teasing smirk. After a moment of consideration, you respond. "Dance with me." 

Pleased at the thought, I put the glass down and hold out my hand. You take it, your index finger stroking my palm ever so lightly while you search my face. Apparently you find something there that you like, because you pull me out onto the dance floor. My hand finds your shoulder and yours finds my waist, and you pull me close as we twirl around the ballroom. 

We dance in silence at first, stepping smoothly in syncopated time. After a particularly quick turn, I notice your hand slowly sliding down from my waist to the curves of my ass. My eyes widen slightly at the impertinence of it all, but I can’t ignore the rush of excitement. When you notice my cheeks flushing, your grip tightens, clutching me almost posessively. You lean down, whispering in my ear. "And what else can you do for me?" 

The feeling of your breath on my neck makes me shiver. I press myself against you as close as I dare, lips almost touching your cheek as I murmur in a voice husky with lust. "Well that depends. What do you want me to do?" 

It only takes a moment for you to come up with an answer. “I want everyone in this room to envy me,” you say, your hand squeezing me even tighter, making me gasp.

And as the song comes to an end, I stop, bringing you to a halt. I kiss you softly on the lips, sweet and lingering. The other dancers start to leave the floor, and you start to pull away from my embrace. Without warning, I grab your lapels and pull you back in, kissing you with a vicious hunger, all sense of propriety abandoned. You return the kiss with a passion, quickly gaining control, your hand caressing the curves of my ass, filling me with throbbing need. I press myself up against you as close as I can, feeling your heat against mine, and I whimper a little at the contact. Your other hand comes up to my throat, caressing the sensitive skin there, and I can’t help but squirm. People are watching but I don’t care, all I want to do is kiss you. I grab your bottom lip between my teeth and suck on it for a moment, before releasing you and pulling away to breathe. We are the only couple left on the floor, and everyone else is looking at us out of the corner of their eyes, whispering to each other. More than one is eyeing us with poorly-hid jealousy. 

Panting slightly, I lean in and whisper, “I live to serve, my lord.” 

You smile, holding my chin, your thumb brushing over my lips. “So I see! How intriguing...” It takes all my self control to not take your thumb into my mouth. 

I bask in your gaze for a second, then pull away reluctantly and curtsey, once again the epitome of formality and grace. “Thank you for the dance, my lord. I hope there shall be another soon.” I hold your gaze longer than is strictly necessary, before breaking it with a quick wink, and turning back to the crowd, who parts before me.

It takes a while for the buzz to die down, and I spend the time sipping my drink and waiting for you. I have never been one for patience, and knowing that you might be watching, plotting, sends a thrill straight through me. I’ve found an odd corner in which to stand, partially hidden by a tapestry depicting some famous hunt. Rather fitting, I muse as I examine it. Eventually the regular pattern of dancing and chatting resumes, the show we put on temporarily forgotten. And finally, I spot you.

You’re walking towards me slowly, but gracefully and, like a predator stalking its prey. I’ve conveniently placed myself where there’s no escape, and can do nothing but watch you approach, practically vibrating with excitement. “Tell me, my lord,” I say loudly as you get nearer. “What are your thoughts on this tapestry?”

Standing next to me, you turn your gaze towards it, examining it with a critical eye. “A beautifully rendered celebration of the hunt. Though I don’t believe full credit should go to the hunters.”

This surprises me. “No? But they are brave and fearless, no doubt.”

You shrug. “Of course, and their hard efforts surely brought the creature down. Still...” You step closer, almost right behind me. “One would almost think the deer  _ wished  _ to be caught.”

I look at you sharply. Your eyes are on me, dark and hungry. You know exactly what you’re doing, sending these shivers down my spine. I take another sip of wine, and you watch me patiently. I can feel the heat pouring off of you, and it is utterly intoxicating. Emboldened, I speak again, a smirk dancing across my lips. “I do hope you were satisfied with the completion of my task, my lord.”

“Oh, most satisfied,” you say, walking behind me, one hand sidling up to rest on my waist. “In fact, I thought I’d show you just how pleased I am.”

“Did you now?” I say teasingly, leaning into your touch as much as I can. “And what did you have in mind?” 

You don’t respond, but step behind the tapestry, eyes twinkling. I move to stand with you, but you stop me, whispering in my ear. “No. Watch the dancers.” 

Puzzled, I stay where I am, in easy view of any who would care to look. But then I realize your plan as your hand finds the hidden pocket of my dress, sliding down through the folds and to my bare thigh. I gasp as your fingers slowly trace their way upwards, and almost cry out when they reach my slit, stopping only by taking a drink from the glass in my hand. And you begin torturing me, dipping your fingers into my wet cunt and exploring. You are watching my reactions carefully, when your fingers run over my clit I have to stifle a moan, and when you slide a finger into me I throw my head back, before trying to compose myself. To anyone else watching, I’m braced in the corner, leaning against the wall, flushed from having too much to drink. If someone looked closely, they might see the color of your sleeve through the folds of my dress, like a stray ribbon. But you and I know the truth, that your fingers are stroking and toying and playing with me in only the most delightful ways, while I struggle to keep a straight face. My knees are getting weak, my breathing is heavy, and my free hand is clutching a fistful of fabric at my dress, as the feeling is building, building, until I can’t stand it anymore and I’m going to break-

And then you pull me behind the tapestry with you, fingers still fucking me, pushing me over the edge, and kissing me. I moan into your mouth as I reach my peak, shuddering, and your free hand wraps around me and you hold the back of my neck, steadying me against you. It takes me a moment to come back to my senses, but when I do, your fingers are still inside me, and our faces are almost touching. 

“ _ That _ was what I had in mind,” you say, unable to help your smug tone. But I don’t care, I am so far past the point of propriety and caution. “What do you have to say?” 

“Please,” I whimper, chest rising and falling as I try to catch my breath, looking up at you with desperate eyes. “Please, I need more.” 

You seems surprised at the request, but it doesn’t take you more than a moment to respond. You turn me around and push my back up against the stone wall, which I lean against gratefully as you undo your your breeches and I pull my skirts up. With one hand, you position yourself at my entrance, and I can feel your heat and oh god it’s driving me insane and I need you so bad, when your other hand grabs my chin and tilts my face up to look you in the eye. “Then beg,” you say, your voice vibrating through me and sending shivers all down my spine. I look at you pleadingly, but you raise your eyebrows, demonstrating infinite patience, while your fingers tease me just a little bit. “Beg for me to fuck you.”

And I give in, unable to hold out any longer, begging for you to fuck me with your deliciously hard cock please please I need it so bad please fuck me- and finally you take mercy on me and enter me with one thrust, and I have to bite down on your shoulder to stop from crying out. You give me a moment, muscles quivering, and then I wrap my leg around your waist, and you begin to fuck me, slow and steady, filling me with a pressure so immediate I can hardly stand it. Your thrusts get harder and faster, pushing me into the cold stone wall as I moan and whimper, and finally the pressure is too much and I climax again around your cock, and a few furious thrusts later you follow suit with a groan, and god but it feels so good. 

We stay there, leaning against each other for a few minutes, catching our breath. You are still inside of me, and when you start to move away, I tilt your face down to mine and we kiss, long and slow, lingering and full of satisfaction. Finally, I stroke your cheek and give you a last peck on the lips, before grinning and murmuring, “See you at the Queen’s Ball next week?”


End file.
